


Secret Santa

by SeafoamSoul



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22399903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeafoamSoul/pseuds/SeafoamSoul
Summary: The annual Christmas party is finally here, along with the long-awaited game of secret Santa. Of course, nothing goes exactly how either of them expect it to.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Bo Dallas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Secret Santa

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chanted under his breath, staring at the two identically wrapped gifts on his coffee table. One of them was for Roman, who desperately needed to learn how to actually relax for once, and one was a couple of books for his coworker Bo for their company’s Secret Santa gift exchange. Neither of the gifts had a tag on them, and Dean was already running late with no chance to unwrap them both and re-wrap the one he needed for the party. “‘I’ll remember which is which’ I said to myself,” Dean rolled his eyes at himself, fingers tapping anxiously on the table. 

After staring at the gifts for five more minutes, minutes he didn’t have, he snagged the one closest to him and ran out the door. “Next year, I’m buying some different fucking wrapping paper,” he muttered as he got in his car, glancing at the clock in front of him. “And some damn gift tags.”

—

Bo had been prepared for this party for days. His ugly Christmas sweater was hanging up on the back of his bedroom door, all the wrapped gifts in his living room carefully labeled. He slipped his sweater on, smoothing the fabric down and appreciating it in the mirror for a moment before moving to his living room. Grabbing the large wrapped box from under his tree labeled ‘Dean’ and ‘From: Your Secret Santa’ and letting out a nervous breath as he thought about the recipient’s reaction to the gift at hand, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door, eager for the party. 

Bo’s favorite holiday was Christmas and he took the holiday and its related festivities incredibly seriously. The company’s Secret Santa gift exchange was no different. He was prepared to find out exactly what his chosen recipient liked the most and tailor their gift to their specific interests. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was pulling Dean’s name out of a hat. 

Dean had been the object of Bo’s affection ever since Dean got a job in Bo’s department. He was so laidback, hair always just this side of messy, face scruffy, while Bo was the poster child for professionalism, even outside the office. His ponytail was always sleekly pulled back, his beard well taken care of. Bo was soft spoken, almost nervous around others. Dean could get along with anyone and his desk was often surrounded by his coworkers laughing as he told yet another joke, another story.

The two were complete opposites, and Bo couldn’t get enough of Dean. He spent more time than he would like to admit catching glimpses of Dean’s dimples as he smiled, ignoring his work in favor of listening as Dean told his stories. 

And Bo knew he never stood a chance.

Even still, when Bo pulled Dean’s name from the Santa hat passed around the office, he got unreasonably excited. He finally had a reason to be around Dean, to learn as much about him as he could. 

He only hoped the gift he got for Dean would be good enough.

—

The party was already in full swing by the time Dean finally arrived. Cursing under his breath, he moved through the crowd until he could put his gift under the too-tall Christmas tree in the middle of the room. He slid it into place just in time for his boss to emerge from the crowd, nearing the tree as Dean stepped away.

“I hope everyone’s ready for Secret Santa!” his boss Curtis exclaimed, reaching down to pick up the first gift from the pile. “I’ll give everyone the gift with their name on it, and then everyone can find their Secret Santa and open their gifts together!”

And then Dean remembered that he still hadn’t put Bo’s name on his gift. His coworkers were all pairing off, hearing Curtis call their names, and then Dean’s gift to Bo was in his boss’s hands. “Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, watching as Curtis turned the gift around to look over it.

“This one doesn’t seem to have a label,” Curtis called out, looking to the remaining bit of the crowd.

“It’s for Bo,” Dean spoke up, cutting through the quiet murmurs of the crowd. “I was running late and forgot to put a tag on it.” 

Dean watched as Bo, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, moved towards Curtis to grab the box from him. All Dean wanted was for Dean to enjoy his gift. He had gotten into a couple of intense bidding wars online to get first editions of some of Bo’s favorite novels, but he was suddenly nervous that those weren’t good enough. 

Sweet Bo, who was always there to help anyone in the office who needed it, who met each day with a perky, crooked grin. Dean found himself looking over at Bo’s desk whenever he could at work, watching as he focused on the work in front of him. He thought Bo was serious, maybe too serious, until December came around and Bo started wearing a different Christmas themed tie each day. 

The crush he had on Bo, the one he had tamped down because he just knew Bo wouldn’t go for someone as scattered as he was. Bo was too well-kempt, too put together. He would never opt for slumming it with Dean.

“Well, Dean, here’s your gift! Go ahead and find your Secret Santa,” Curtis said, breaking Dean out of his reverie. 

Dean went to grab his gift and looked around, trying to figure out who his Secret Santa was. He figured the person would at least be looking in his direction, but no one in his immediate vicinity was paying him any attention. With a sigh, he started moving through the crowd, holding his gift in front of him in hopes someone would finally speak up.

When Dean saw Bo sitting at a table on the balcony by himself, however, he gave up on finding his own Secret Santa, opting instead to see Bo open his gift, see if he liked it.

“Hey, Bo, have you opened it yet,” Dean asked, shifting his weight on his feet, nodding to the gift on the table.

“Oh, no, not yet,” Bo blushed, barely able to make eye contact. “Have you?”

“Nah, I haven’t found my Secret Santa yet,” Dean shrugged, sitting down next to Bo. 

“Oh, um. You did, actually,” Bo laughed, awkwardly pointing at himself. “Guilty as charged.”

“No fucking way! We pulled each other’s names?” 

“It seems that way,” Bo nodded, turning his attention to his hands on the table in front of him before looking back up at Dean. “Well, since we’re both here now, go ahead and open your gift.”

Bo held his breath as Dean tore into the wrapping paper, ignoring the tape at the seams to just rip through the paper. And then the box was open, and it was silent between them, a little too silent for Bo’s liking.

“This is some fancy shit,” Dean finally said, meeting Bo’s eyes.

“It’s not that fancy,” Bo shook his head, pointing at the box in front of Dean. “You just have to know where to look for the good fancy whiskey.”

“Still, thank you. I appreciate it.” Dean moved his box to the side, turning his whole body to face Bo. “Alright, your turn.” 

With a shy smile on his face, Bo went about unwrapping his gift, finding all the seams and ripping from there. But when the box opened completely, Bo blushed furiously, heat flooding his cheeks and his mouth wide open in shock.

“Um,” he stuttered, eyes glued to the contents of the box. “What is this?”

The smile on Dean’s face fell as he watched Bo open his present, not seeing the crooked smile he was expecting to grace Bo’s lips when he unwrapped his present.

“Do you…Not like them?” Dean asked, shoulders tense.

“I - they’re sex toys, Dean,” Bo whispered, looking around to make sure they were still around.

“Oh fuck,” Dean hissed, reaching over to grab the box from Bo. He was right, Dean noted as he looked at the contents. It was absolutely full of the sex toys he bought for his best friend as a joke, to get him to relax. And he had just given them to Bo. “Okay, this was an accident, I promise. I wrapped your present in the same wrapping paper as my friend’s and I forgot to label them. I swear I have your present on my coffee table at home. You can come with me to get it right now, if you want.”

“I, um,” Bo bit his lip, wringing his hands together in his lap.

“Unless you want this present in which case, more power to you,” Dean joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “And if you have any questions about what they do, I can definitely teach you.”

Bo stilled, eyes wide. “Are you…Hitting on me?”

Dean’s fingers tapped on the table nervously in front of him, realizing his joke didn’t really work. Not with the atmosphere around them right now. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally said, shaking his head. “Look, I can run home and get the present I meant to give you and then we can pretend this never happened and we can go back to you ignoring my existence at work.”

“No,” Bo answered after a beat, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. “We can go to your place. Together. I think I’ll need a crash course in using these toys to their potential.”

Dean choked, gasping for air as he watched Bo stand and take the box in his hands before walking away. When he realized Bo wasn’t coming back, Dean grabbed his own box and hurried after him through the crowd.

—

“Dean,” Bo sighed, pushed against the closed door of Dean’s apartment. Dean’s hands were under the hem of his sweater, lips pressed against his neck. 

Bo wasn’t sure what took over him at the party, but he was so glad it happened. Now, though, his brain was busy cataloguing this experience. How long Dean’s fingers were, how they felt hot even against his overheated flesh. The softness of his lips compared to how rough his kisses were. The tiny span of his waist when Bo grabbed him to keep his balance as Dean shoved him against the door. And then, finally, how right it felt when Dean ground his hips into his own. 

Their hands were all over each other, Dean’s hand tangled in Bo’s hair to grab the elastic and take it out, letting his hair fall around his shoulders. Bo was busy shoving Dean’s jacket off his shoulders, pushing his black v neck shirt up his torso.

“Bo,” Dean sighed, finally separating his lips from Bo’s skin. “You gotta tell me if this is really what you want.”

Bo couldn’t find his ability to form words, opting instead to roll his hips against Dean’s, whining at the friction on his hard cock.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, pulling away just enough to tear his shirt over his head before reaching for Bo’s sweater and tossing it somewhere behind him. Their lips met again, moving roughly against each other. Bo’s hands were clutching Dean’s shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer while Dean busied himself with the fastenings of Bo’s pants. When his hand reached into Bo’s underwear to stroke him, Bo’s knees buckled, sending the two of them sprawling to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bo knew he should care about this. Being on a rug on the floor in the middle of Dean’s entryway wasn’t the best location for what was happening, but when Dean gripped his length more firmly in his hand, Bo couldn’t find it in himself to care about anything else.

And before he knew it, he was shoving Dean’s pants down his legs, his own hand reaching for Dean’s dick pressed into his thigh. Dean hissed at the contact, jerking his hips into Bo’s hand and quickening the pace of his hand on Bo at the same time. 

Dean’s mouth latched onto Bo’s flesh once again, kissing down his chest. When he bit lightly at Bo’s nipple, his hips jerked into Dean’s hand, a high pitched whine leaving his throat. When he tightened his grip on his dick just right, Bo shuddered underneath him, free hand tangling into Dean’s messy hair. 

Dean was so focused on Bo’s pleasure, how he reacted to even the slightest touch, that he wasn’t paying too much attention to his own body, his hips desperately rutting into Bo’s hands. 

Somehow, Bo knew exactly how to move his hands to drive Dean wild without any instruction, and when his thumb passed over the head of Dean’s dick, Dean came hard. His teeth clamped down hard on Bo’s shoulder, hips stuttering in Bo’s hand.

Bo, on the other hand, was grinning so wide he was sure his face would split in half. He kept stroking Dean softly until he felt Dean shift, sitting back on his heels.

“Holy shit,” Dean panted, trying to catch his breath. “I came like a teenage boy,” he grimaced.

“It’s okay,” Bo assured, sitting up to catch Dean’s eye. “Really.”

“No, you’re right,” Dean nodded after a moment. “This just means I have enough time to give you a very thorough lesson on what these toys do.” At that, Dean reached past Bo for the box left forgotten near the door. As he stood, he reached out his free hand for Bo to grab and led him to his bedroom.


End file.
